How Sorry Helped Me in The Game of Life

by guest blogger, C. L. Schock - 

I'm to understand that my husband has been attempting to entertain you with his musings and opinions for a while now. Contemplating this--my own first attempt to blog--I couldn't help but be a bit reflective. As my spouse has shared, he had been slow to launch any new posts in recent weeks because of a family tragedy. What he did not tell you was that the tragedy was the death of a close relative from my side of the family tree.

 

So it shouldn't surprise anyone that I've been thinking a lot about what my life was like growing up. There was nothing unusual about it, unless you count the fact that there was nothing unusual about it. I was raised in a very traditional nuclear family: no divorces, no crazy uncles living in the garage--not even a grandparent living in the spare room. My mom made dinner every night and, after we ate, we would typically line up on the sofa to watch a couple hours of television. But every once in a while, we would turn off the television, sit around the dining room table, and play a board game.

We didn't have a lot of board games at our house, especially compared to the still growing collection I maintain today. But I know we had a smattering of the classics--Monopoly, Clue, Battleship, and even Cooties. And I know we must have played them all on occasion. But the game that most often comes to mind is Sorry. It was a simple enough game--the object of which was to move your pieces around the board and to your goal while also impeding your opponents as much as possible. We enjoyed playing it, but I don't know that we played it any more often than the other games in our collection. For whatever reason, however, it's the game I think of when remembering game nights with my family. Simply put, it was fun in a way that made an indelible impression on my memory.

I don't recall exactly how often we played. I don't remember who won more games, or who lost more games. I don't know how old I was when we played for the first time, or how old I was when we played it last. But what I do remember is playing, spending time together, and enjoying each other's company as a family. And now I treasure those memories more than ever.

Just the other day, I was watching my daughter play The Game of Life with her cousin. The game started out like any other--with the two of them moving their pieces around the board while attempting to (A) get the jobs they wanted, (B) get married, and (C) have the number of children they wanted. I wasn't paying much attention to their game play until I happened to notice it diverging from the traditional narrative and success criteria. They had started to turn it into a sort of role playing game, elaborating on their pretend jobs and make believe families with growing detail and gusto. I don't believe that they ever got around to finishing the game. But I do believe that they had fun. 

As I reflected on what to write about in my first blog, I compared these two memories. And when I did, I concluded that sometimes the truth in a platitude is overlooked just because it comes from a platitude. But that doesn't make it any less true. Dozens of well-meaning friends and family members can tell you while in line at the funeral home that you will always treasure the memories of your loved one. Maybe they say it because they feel awkward and don't know what else to say. Perhaps they say it because they have seen it in countless memes and sympathy cards. But, perhaps the reason that they say it when they feel awkward is because it comes from some instinctive, deeply buried pool of knowledge. Perhaps countless memes and sympathy cards have the same message because the people who have lived through the pain already recognize the truth. 

So for those of you who have already lost someone close to you, I want to say I finally understand the platitudes. And for those of you who have yet to lose someone that close to you, let me give you some advice. Pay attention to the sentiments people share with you--however trite they might seem. Spend time with the people you love. Put down your phones and do something together. Play a board game. Go hiking. Have a picnic. Play basketball. It doesn't matter what you do; what matters is that you care enough to do it. Make the memories. 

I don't remember the details of playing Sorry with my family, I just remember that we played and had fun. And so I'm telling to you to take time to enjoy the Game of Life while you can. Yes, you should try to get a good job, meet someone special, buy a house, etc. But don't be afraid to go off script and expand the narrative. Elaborate on your story. Make some things up as you go. And know that, one day, when you reflect on your life, you may not remember who won which game. But rest assured, you will remember and cherish the fun.